My husband has left Canada on a US football pilgrimage to Green Bay which leaves me the car and the babysitter runs it entails. This morning I was pumped to catch the 7 am Oshawa GO train but when I started the car at 6:32 am in my garage in Courtice, I noticed the 12 KM to empty warning on the dash.
You summabitch.
I love my husband. I really do. I know why he did this because we're trading the car in tomorrow for a 2014 model to replace our 2009 model of Ford Flex and he's keen on handing it over with as little gas as possible. Clearly, he didn't think this through on his way home from work yesterday because the new car is Brampton. Was I going to fly there?
I dropped the kid off at the babysitter and drove down to Bloor where I planned to hit up the Husky at Simcoe in Oshawa to fill up. I had no idea Bloor was a clusterfuck at Ritson and I sat in traffic, idling for 10 minutes, and watching the gas gauge with the same level of anxiety I used to watch it as a kid on our family treks to New Brunswick, always convinced my dad was going to run out of gas.
I coasted into the Husky with 2 KM to empty. This has to be a new record.
I missed the 7 am train and I missed the opportunity to finally meet my favourite CSA turned train operator, Dylan, who was running the 7 am out of Oshawa this morning. This was a bummer.
But on a high note, I found a great parking spot, told off a smoker who was smoking in the shelter - on the platform (said he was cold), asked a lady to kindly remove her UGGs from the seat (she did AND APOLOGIZED - yes I'm buying a lottery ticket) and ran into an old friend who I haven't seen since 2010. This makes up for the empty gas tank.
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